


flying colors

by windingwoods



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Fake Marriage, Other, Secret Samol 2018, Slow Dancing, misuse of stratus abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: “Do you think something will really happen?” Fourteen asks.Tender looks like she’s about to answer, but Morning’s Observation’s voice crackles through their earpieces.“Yo, you’ve got, like, two minutes,” he says. “Party’s about to start, Sho just got into position. Hope you guys feel married enough, but when don’t you.”“Our relationship—” Fourteen starts.“Is purely professional,” Tender finishes for them.





	flying colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apolante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apolante/gifts).



> happy secret samol!! i hope this work will bring you lots and lots of joy!  
> MO and sho are here even though this is post-miracle bc i'm a fool and timelines are made to be messed with (they're not)

Signet’s hands move with practiced ease as she makes sure the last details of Fourteen’s outfit are in place. She secures the cufflinks (studded with lilac crystals, to match Tender’s hair), straightens their tie (also lilac), brushes imaginary lint off their suit. Then she frowns.

“I don’t know, Fourteen,” she says, taking a step back to inspect the result of hours of fussing and telling them to stop fidgeting so much. “I still wish you would’ve let me lend you my tourmaline dress. We could’ve worked something out for Tender. I’m sure blues and purples don’t go that bad together.”

Even as she says it, the corner of her mouth twitches. It makes Fourteen smile, heart fond and at ease.

“Put a dash of green and gold in there and we would’ve looked like a couple of peacocks,” they say, lightly. “Please don’t lie to yourself, Signet. Grand could hear you and have a conniption.”

That gets a snort out of her, which is rare enough it makes Fourteen’s heart soar all over again. Their peace doesn’t last any longer, though, because the next moment there’s a knock at the door of their changing room. After Signed calling out for her, Tender steps inside. She’s wearing a velvet black dress and capelet combo with white and lilac embroidery in the shapes of hundreds blooming flowers, and it’s the most breathtaking sight Fourteen’s seen in a while.

Their heart’s hammering against their ribcage now, but they can’t help but grin when Tender smiles at them. “You look great,” they say, because it’s the mere truth.

“Why, thank you,” Tender responds, closing the distance between them in a few measured steps. Her tail moves behind her back like a metronome. “Great outfit, by the way. It’s only… missing one thing.”

She produces a white flower out of thin air, a dahlia, and pins it to the lapel of their suit. Her hands rests on their chest for a moment, firm and warm, and Fourteen would worry about her feeling how furious their heartbeat is right now if they didn’t trust Tender Sky with each fiber of each of their bodies. Giving her their heart feels only natural when they’ve worked together for so long.

“We’re going to ace this mission,” they say in lieu of thanks, to which Tender winks and takes a step back.

“You know it, partner.”

Behind her, Fourteen catches a glimpse of Signet staring off into space with the carefully blank expression she reserves to anyone foolish enough to try to bullshit her, but before they can ask her what’s wrong Tender grabs both their hands in hers.

“Or should I say ‘my dearest _spouse’_ ?” She winks again, giggling at the cover story they will be using for tonight’s event. It’s very simple: a wealthy businesswoman and her trophy accountant-slash-spouse on a vacation from their hectic everyday life back on Seneschal, where Harmonia Goldleaf (Fourteen had cringed at the fake name, but it had quickly turned into laughter as Tender strutted around the _World_ draped in the shimmery material of the fish net) sells high-quality wine to those who can afford it.

Their job is to blend in and keep the two hosts safe. They’re a lovely couple, freshly engaged, but an anonymous message has warned them that people from the NEH, likely unhappy with a marriage between an influent NEH personality and someone from Quire, might interfere with their party. Storm’s Hymn, their employer, has been pushing for more responsible urban planning and her progressive ideas are no mystery among Crown.

“Do you think something will really happen?” Fourteen asks.

Tender looks like she’s about to answer, but Morning’s Observation’s voice crackles through their earpieces.

“Yo, you’ve got, like, two minutes,” he says. “Party’s about to start, Sho just got into position. Hope you guys feel married enough, but when don’t you.”

“Our relationship—” Fourteen starts.

“Is purely professional,” Tender finishes for them. Behind them, Signet hides what sounds like a snort behind a fake cough. Whatever, _she_ ’s the one married to a giant robot anyway.

“Sure, aight.” Morning’s Observation sounds utterly unconvinced. For some reason. “Just get a move, Hymn’s gettin’ nervous.”

“Everything’s _peachy_ , Morn.” Tender clicks her tongue, but her tone is affectionate. She offers Fourteen her arm with a flirty sway of her head. “Shall we go?”

“By all means, my dear.”

They both laugh a little at that, a pleasant heat radiating through Fourteen’s body from their palm resting on top of Tender’s arm. By the time they’ve made it to the main venue, though, Fourteen can tell Tender has already switched gears; her tail stays perfectly still, twitching ever so slightly at the tip from time to time, and her body is taut against theirs.

They lean on their tiptoes, bringing their mouth to the base of her ear in a gesture they hope to be believable enough, and whisper, “this place is so fancy I fear I might break something and end up in debt every time I breathe.”

Tender laughs, private as if it’s meant for just the two of them, and Fourteen’s body blooms in a flurry of butterflies. Then, after giving their employers a subtle nod, she guides them towards the center of the venue, where guests are already mingling and enjoying miniature food treats that look as yummy as they do unsatisfying.

“Let’s rock this party,” she whispers to them, right as Morning’s Observation hacks into the sound system and his newest song starts blaring through the speakers. This time Tender’s laughter is loud enough to ring across the room.

 

*

 

They’ve been twirling around on and off for the better part of an hour by now, spending the time in between stuffing as much food as possible into their mouths, avoiding Sho’s disappointed glares at their manners and making small talk with the other guests. Playing the married couple comes easy to them, which Fourteen chalks up to Tender’s boundless professionalism, but the niceties keep getting more mind-numbing with every passing minute.

“Is it bad that I’m hoping for someone to actually crash this party?” they ask after having disposed of the fifth glass of jeli juice that’s been offered to them.

“Hmm,” Tender hums in agreement. Her hand finds the small of Fourteen’s back and she starts steering them back towards where people are dancing. “Any chance we could get something nice in here?” She pretends to ask them.

“First of all, fuck you,” Morning’s Observation retorts from both their earpieces. “You wouldn’t know a good piece if I resurrected Mozart for you.”

“Who’s—”

“Nope! We’re not diving into cultural shock right now! Second of all, fuck you again.”

There’s a smugness in his tone that has every hair on the back of Fourteen’s neck standing in alarm, but before they can brace themself for whatever’s coming, a soft melody starts weaving its way into the air.

“Oh, _really_ now,” Tender hisses in between her teeth, cheeks flushed for a moment, only to twirl Fourteen and gently sway them into an easy rhythm for their dance as if moving with them is as easy as breathing for her.

“I wanted something a bit more lively,” she says into their ear, sending a chill down their spine, “but I guess we’ve got to make do with our awful DJ.”

“I reckon so,” they whisper back to her, and Tender giggles, unaware of how the weight of her palm on their side feels almost searing through the fine fabric of their suit.

The two of them glide in silence through the sea of other guests for a while, enjoying each other’s company and keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. This close, Tender smells of something buttery and sweet, but it’s not overwhelming. Fourteen finds themself leaning closer, resting their forehead on her shoulder careful not to scrape her skin with their horns.

“This is nice.” Their voice comes out small, almost hesitant, and they’re thankful for the fact that they don’t have to face Tender as they say it. Then there’s a shift in their balance, Tender’s foot suddenly between theirs, and before Fourteen knows it she’s dipping them.

“Fourteen…” she starts, licks her lips. She’s wearing a rich shade of purple lipstick that makes it even harder not to look at them, not to slip into thinking about how that shade of purple would look smeared all over Fourteen’s neck.

The hands holding them up bring their chest a little closer to hers as she seems to search for words, but before Fourteen can even think of skipping the talking entirely, before they can bring their own hands to Tender’s hair and tangle their fingers in it, Sho’s voice pierces through the crowd.

“Look out!”

Then it’s chaos.

 

*

 

All things considered, it could’ve gone worse Fourteen muses. Sho could’ve cut off one of the terrorists’ head clean off in front of very impressionable guests, people could’ve gotten hurt, Fourteen could’ve ended up in a new body; the possibilities are endless.

Yes, the possibilities are endless. That’s what they tell themself as they think of all the property damage they’ve caused, or how Cascara will receive the news. At least Signet said she’d handle that part, for which Fourteen’s boundlessly grateful. Or they would be, if only that didn’t mean being stuck alone with Tender after, well, whatever happened during their dance.

When Tender dabs the antiseptic on the cut on their cheek they’re so lost in thought they can’t even catch the hiss that slips past their gritted teeth. Her hand immediately stills, a breath above Fourteen’s skin, and Tender’s ears flick with worry.

“Shit, sorry,” she says, even though none of it is her fault. “Does it sting? I mean, of course it stings, that’s how you know it’s doing its thing, um—”

“Tender,” they say. Her rambling peters out, but she still looks just as nervous as Fourteen feels. In a way, it’s comforting enough it gives them the strength to tackle the elephant in the room. “Tonight… Were we faking? Like, at all?”

Immediately, they cringe at their own words. “Barring the whole married couple from Seneschal deal, that is. We are very much unmarried. Never have two coworkers been less married in their lives. I just…”

This time they’re the one who peters out, but they know Tender will drop the subject and never look back if they don’t have this conversation here and now, so they make themself barrel on. “It never once felt fake to me, Tender. It only felt— natural and nice and, I don’t know, familiar? I don’t know, maybe the others _were_ onto something.”

At that, Tender huffs. “I’m still giving our DJ a stern talking to, as the superior stratus here.” She sounds annoyed and her tail is cutting through the air around her legs at an increasingly faster speed, but her cheeks darken as Fourteen stares up at her. “You really do look lovely in that suit. It’s nice. You’re nice.”

That’s such a Tender way of acknowledging the issue, it makes Fourteen laugh. “Just ‘nice’? That’s all I get, Tender Sky?”

“I also said you look lovely!”

They both giggle, and when Tender’s hands cradle their face, Fourteen’s whole body sags in relief. Tender always has such warm hands, soft even with all the callouses.

“We were interrupted, earlier,” they murmur, lips grazing her palm. “Quite rudely, I reckon.”

“Good thing we’ve got time now.”

It turns out the lipstick smears look just perfect.


End file.
